


Lucky Strike

by Lacerta26



Series: Got a Light? [4]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Smoking, Wedding, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22836034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacerta26/pseuds/Lacerta26
Summary: In aid of ongoing peace and interpersonal harmony in their relationship Harry decides to quit smoking once and for all, in solidarity.Doesn’t stop Eggsy catching him at it all the fucking time.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Got a Light? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1189789
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Lucky Strike

**Author's Note:**

> More of this nonsense! This probably is the last instalment I swear! Don't smoke, yada, yada!
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated; I have a couple WIPs gathering dust and it would be great to get some encouragement to finish them :)

In aid of ongoing peace and interpersonal harmony in their relationship Harry decides to quit smoking once and for all, in solidarity. 

Doesn’t stop Eggsy catching him at it all the fucking time. 

I.

It’s been a lazy sort of Saturday, walking JB around the park, popping to waitrose for some bits, ultimately deciding on a takeaway and one too many glasses of wine on the sofa. Eggsy’s gone to put their dirty plates in the dishwasher leaving Harry lounging with a brandy in front of some dire reality TV he pretends not to be hugely invested in but Eggsy always catches him adding to the Sky Plus and when he gets back Harry’s nowhere to be found. 

‘Harry?’ with a job like theirs there’s always a sudden dip of fear when you head back into a room expecting a scene of slightly drunken relaxation to find the place abandoned. There’s no reason to expect foul play but Eggsy’s on something of a hair trigger these days, professionally alert for any kind of danger.

The danger it turns out, is only to his own sanity, and possibly Harry’s lung capacity because he finds him on the second floor balcony with such a blissed out look on his face Eggsy thinks he might have snuck into their weed stash. 

_ ‘Harry,’  _ no, it’s just regular old tobacco he can smell. The guilty way Harry starts and flicks his half smoked fag over the side of the balcony confirms it, ‘you  _ promised _ .’

Harry had said he’d stop when Eggsy finally managed to kick the habit; it’s been a whole year since Eggsy’s smoked and he’s doing well, out of sight, out of mind and all that carry on. But every so often Harry comes home smelling of tobacco, sweet and tempting, and Eggsy’s almost ready to give up and run to the nearest offie to buy as many packs of Marlboro Light as he can get his hands on. 

Harry smokes rarely, a couple every six months, if that, when he’s really drunk or stressed beyond endurance; he was always better at moderation in that regard and he’s been so encouraging in helping Eggsy to quit. Eggsy can’t begrudge him six cigarettes a year but this is taking the piss. 

‘Eggsy, forgive me, too many glasses of wine…’ Harry spreads his hands wide, conciliatory, stepping back into the room. 

‘The least you can do is be sneakier about it, like. Not smoke right under my nose.’

‘I know, I’m stopping, that was my last one I promise.’

Eggsy raises an eyebrow, ‘sure, just, y’know, not around me, yeah? Giving up was so hard. I don't need you tempting me in more ways than usual.’

‘Tempt you do I?’

‘You know you do,’ Eggsy lets Harry draw him onto the sofa where they sit even closer than before, ‘all the reasons you went on at me to quit apply to you too, you know.’

‘I am aware.’ 

Eggsy looks at Harry seriously, properly; his rich, brown hair threaded through with silver from the temples, the dashes of pink high on his cheekbones that are a sure sign he’s been drinking wine, the crows feet around his eyes as he smiles at Eggsy, warm and apologetic. He changed the course of Eggsy’s life, changed him in so many ways, for the better, and Eggsy has changed Harry in turn; the life of a Kingsman doesn’t allow for many friends but every single one of Harry’s that he’s met say the same - Eggsy is the best thing to happen to Harry in a long time. He can’t imagine walking away from this, from Harry. They’re all living on borrowed time as it is and Eggsy isn’t usually one to be so fatalistic - he wants Harry and this life they’ve built together for as long as he can and he’s going to make damn sure it’s a long time. 

‘Harry. Will you marry me?’ 

There’s a suspended moment of silence and then Harry laughs, not cruel, but delighted and surprised, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Eggsy’s mouth, their foreheads together, ‘I didn’t think there were any ways life had left to surprise me but you always do, you wonderful boy, you brave boy.’

‘That ain’t a yes, Harry. I know you always said you’re not the marrying kind but…’

‘Yes, of course, how could my answer be anything else?’

Eggsy can feel himself blushing of all ridiculous things, grinning like he can’t help it as Harry pulls him into a proper kiss, the kind that’s leads as often as not to a frantic shag on the sofa and someone throwing their back out - surely they’re both too old for that now but it’s not everyday you get engaged. 

In the end Harry just holds him, stroking one big hand down his spine, warm and comforting, until Eggsy lifts his head off Harry’s chest to say, ‘if you’ll marry me will you quit smoking for me?’

‘I shall endeavour to try.’

II.

The party has spilled out from dinner to drinks at a cocktail bar in Piccadilly - they have the whole warmly lit cellar. Exquisitely dressed waiters and waitresses, mingling with increasingly sozzled agents, move about the room with polite disinterest even though the stories they can surely overhear are getting louder and more unbelievable by the second; even Merlin gave up shushing everyone a few hours ago. Kingsman’s been here before; not one of the staff really believes them to be tailors.

Eggsy accepts a martini from the tray of a pretty waitress who’s been making eyes at him all evening. He didn’t arrive with Harry, late off the back of a mission, and they keep missing each other as Harry does the rounds shaking everyone’s hands. In between graciously accepting birthday wishes, compliments on his service record, and jovial ribbing about his ability to keep Eggsy interested despite his advancing age all they’ve managed is heated eye contact. 

‘It’s a lovely party,’ says the waitress.

‘Yep,’ Eggsy glances around after a sip of his drink, Harry is nowhere to be seen and the waitress is still looking at him expectantly.

‘What is it you guys do? This must have cost loads,’ she’s looking at him guilessly. Must be new or doesn’t care enough to maintain the fiction as she cracks on to Eggsy.

‘We’re tailors,’ he says stroking down the silk of his tie - bad move - her eyes follow the movement down and linger a touch too long before she makes eye contact again. 

A shrug, ‘sure. Listen I get off at two if you want to -’ 

Eggsy stops her with a smile, ‘sorry love, but the birthday boy is my boyfriend,’  _ fiance _ , he ain’t ever getting used to that, ‘I ought to go find him.’

‘Really? But he must be…’ she blushes a little, ‘sorry I didn’t mean...he’s fit, too, you’re both...christ,’ she covers her face with the now empty tray and peeks from behind it, grinning. 

‘Yes, really,’ Eggsy takes pity on her and smiles back, they’re co-conspirators now, the mood shifting.

‘Well done you, anyway, silver fox like that and he must be loaded to afford this place.’

‘Yeah, and honestly if anything I have trouble keeping up with him,’ Eggsy says with a wink, ‘speaking of you haven’t seen him around have you?’

‘Nah, but maybe try outside. I have to get back to work,’ shes takes his now empty glass, ‘have a nice night, yeah?’

He grins, ‘cheers, I will.’

Taking the stairs two at a time he dashes up to the main bar, full of regular civilians totally unaware of the lethal and trained killers getting wasted beneath them. 

The martini’s have gone to his head and he ducks out onto the street, noisy and bright even though the sun went down ages ago, excitement simmering beneath his skin. He wants to be close to Harry, show each other off for the rest of the evening before heading home to bed; they’ve nothing left to prove to anyone at this point. 

It’s a testament to how long its been since he gave up that it doesn’t immediately cross his mind why Harry might be out here; huddled on a street corner with Percival. He’s leaning against the wall of the building, one hand in the pocket of his suit trousers,  _ ruining the line  _ Eggsy’s brain helpfully suggests, and Percival is laughing at something he’s just said. Harry is smiling back, eyes crinkling with mirth, the light from the passing cars glinting in his hair as he lifts a cigarette to his mouth and draws on it. 

Eggsy is immediately pulled in two directions; furious that Harry is sneaking a fag even when he promised to quit and torn by the fact he  _ does _ look fucking fit when he smokes. He ends up in a weird place of annoyed arousal marching over to the pair of them before his brain catches up with his mouth. Percival wisely drifts out of the conversation with a hand to Eggsy’s shoulder in apology, they’ll be having words later; Roxy’s uncle or not everyone at Kingsman is under strict instructions not to encourage Harry to smoke.

‘Oi! Harry, what the fuck!’

Harry just raises a slightly challenging eyebrow without a hint of remorse and says with a filthy sort of leer, ‘it is my birthday, darling. You’ll forgive an old man his pleasures won’t you? You are after all chief among them.’

He’s being deliberately verbose which is evidence enough that he’s on the way to properly drunk and trying to hide it. Functioning alcoholics that all of Kingsman are, it takes a lot to get Harry pissed. 

‘Fuck off, pervert,’ Eggsy chides but he sidles closer to where he can smell Harry’s spicy cologne and sweet tobacco. 

Harry slips the hand not still holding his cigarette up under Eggsy’s suit jacket, big and warm on his ribs, as he pulls them together, ‘you can have one if you like?’ Harry really is drunk if he’s dangling  _ that  _ in front of him. He’s usually the first to praise Eggsy for quitting.

‘I’ve given up,’ says Eggsy, ‘and so have you.’

‘I know. But fifty fucking five, christ.’

‘You’re looking good on it.’

‘Yes, quite. So why don’t you let me enjoy myself?’ pouting is one of the few things that doesn’t suit Harry.

Eggsy steps out of their heated little embrace because he’s always been the mature one, in spite of apparences, ‘put it this way - you can enjoy that fag now or you can enjoy me sucking you off later, your choice.’

Harry sighs, drops the cigarette to the pavement and grinds it under his heel, ‘I’m holding you to that.’

‘I should fucking hope so, babes,’ Eggsy grins into the inevitable kiss, quickly turning into a filthy snog liable to get them arrested for gross indecency. Again. Harry tastes smoky but it’s addictive for the way he cups Eggsy’s jaw and draws him up onto his tiptoes, deep and expansive. 

III.

Eggsy doesn’t say a word when Harry lights up outside the aircraft hanger. Harry’s suit is dusty, he’s split his lip, and his shoes are scuffed but these minor external hurts aren’t what captures Eggsy’s attention. It’s the way Harry is holding himself, the shadow across his gaze and the tight smile he bestows on Eggsy, almost a wince. He doesn’t really need extraction but Eggsy was dispatched nonetheless to collect him. Harry will object to the babysitting but he will be grateful Eggsy is here and grateful for the cigarette, something to steady his hand. 

Harry-as-Arthur doesn’t go out into the field often these days but this mission was perfectly placed for his expertise in diplomacy, and he keeps his hand in with the umbrella just in case, but it’s always especially difficult when missions reveal the particular skill at cruelty humanity manages to mete out to each other. When children are involved or the vulnerable caught up in society’s seemingly relentless slide towards evil. They don’t wear it lightly, the responsibility of what they do, the brutality they are given lease to employ to take down bigger evils. Harry loves their work, Eggsy knows, and misses it, but that doesn’t stop it taking its toll. 

Harry finishes his cigarette on the steps of the Kingsman jet one hand on Eggsy’s arm, walks steadily on to the plane when he’s done, weary with it. 

One of Kingsman’s medical officers steps discretely forward once Harry has taken a seat, to check his pulse, shine a light in his eyes, which Harry submits to without his characteristic irritation at being fussed over. This isn’t the stress he feels when another agent goes out on a mission or even the anger when something goes wrong. This is deeper, existential. Harry looks lost.

‘Arthur…’

‘Don’t.’

‘What?’

‘Worry. About me.’ 

‘Harry. You’re allowed to find this hard, you don’t have to pretend, especially with me.’

Dr. Edwards seems to dematerialise from the cabin where she’d been updating her notes, wisely getting out of their way. Most of the Kingsman staff know by now when they’re in the presence of a conversation between Harry and Eggsy rather than Arthur and Galahad without being told. 

‘I know, darling boy. The older I get the luckier I realise I am; to have made it this far, to this grand old age, to have you,’ he catches Eggsy’s hand and smiles, sadly, ‘how much I have to lose.’

‘You’ll always have me - I ain't going anywhere.’ 

‘Missions like this I understand how little choice we have on that score.’ 

Concern prickles across Eggsy’s scalp, entirely selfishly. He’s been worried about this for a while, that Harry would want to retire and take Eggsy with him. He’d always assumed Harry would work until he couldn’t anymore but priorities change. 

‘You can’t ask me to give it up,’ he winces at his own bluntness but Harry just smiles at him. 

‘I would never dare to, dear boy, I’m not even sure I could ask myself to give it up nor would I have the will to try,’ he sighs, ‘but I have been so reckless.’ 

‘You’re the best of us, Harry, you’re not reckless - you’re careful, calculated, ruthless.’

‘They don’t sound like adjectives one would want in a partner.’

‘It’s what’s kept you alive. Kept you safe long enough for you to…’

‘What?

‘Save me.’

‘I can’t take total credit for that - you were ready to be saved.’

Eggsy snorts, ‘make me sound like some kind of damsel in distress 

‘You’re far from that and besides, you saved me in turn.’ 

‘Don’t know about that. So what? You want to stop going out into the field altogether? Retire? This was your first mission in months and Kingsman wouldn’t be Kingsman without you.’

‘No, they carry Kingsmen out in a bodybag before they ever retire. We all know that when we sign up for this life.’ 

‘So  _ what _ ?’ Eggsy repeats. 

Three years of getting Harry to open up to him have taught him a lot about patience in more ways than one. He sets aside his own anxiety, his own desire to go to Harry properly, lay hands on him, and confirm the evidence of his eyes that a pulse still beats under Harry’s skin. So Eggsy waits, as Harry gazes unfocused at his hands, there are tears threatening but when he blinks and raises his head his eyes are clear.

‘Nothing, nothing at all. We carry on, as we always have,’ he takes Eggsy’s hand again and smiles, but this time it reaches his eyes. He stretches, tilts his head as if shaking something off.

Eggsy allows him a small smile, not enough to let him think he’s got away with not talking, ‘Don’t bury it, Harry, we need you top of your game. And I won't let you get away with a smoke to take the edge off everytime.’

‘Bloody wish you could still smoke on these wretched things.’

‘If you want to be less  _ reckless  _ you can quit smoking,’ he does go to Harry now, wedging himself into the seat beside him.

‘I mean it, Harry.’

‘I know, I’m stopping, I am.’

‘Not about that, about not keeping things buried.’

Harry pulls him close, presses a kiss into his hair, ‘there you go again, saving me.’

IV.

Eggsy is fairly certain that his family grows exponentially between each visit, few and far between as they are. There are always new cousins or second cousins, three times removed, standing around working out how they’re related. Harry, who’s about as posh as you can get without a title, grew up in a massive house with only his mother, father and one older brother, seems at even more of a loss than Eggsy when Michelle insists they join her at these parties. The world can’t be conveniently ending every time. 

Everyone seemed genuinely politely baffled by Harry rather than outright homophobic as Eggsy had worried and by now they’ve all just about got used to him. He stands, head and shoulders above the rest of them, calm and serene in his suit - no tie in deference to the informality of the occasion - but Eggsy knows on the inside he’s shitting himself. They are getting married in just under six months and it’s now or never to make the announcement to the assembled hordes of Unwins.

‘You alright, Harry?’ Eggsy finds a moment of calm as the chatter rises around them to slip his hand into Harry’s and squeeze.

‘Mmm? Oh, yes, splendid,’ says Harry as they watch Daisy tearing past with one of the younger cousins causing a shelf of toby jugs to rattle precariously. 

‘Gary, be a dear and help your mother, the next lot of sausage rolls want taking out of the oven,’ interrupts one of the relatives, handing over a stack of dirty plates, and Eggsy sends a grimace of apology in Harry’s direction before gently tilting him towards a great aunt and heading into the kitchen.

‘Alright, mum? Auntie Carol said you needed a hand?’ 

‘Oh! Eggsy, babes, yeah, get them sausage rolls onto a plate and hand them round while they’re still hot. And Darren wanted a beer if you can find him - Daisy! Don’t run in the kitchen how many times!’

‘Mum,’ he says, gripping her shoulders with a grin, ‘this ain’t even your party, calm down!’ 

When Eggsy’s dad died they lost touch with his side of the family and after the arrival of Dean in their lives it got even harder. His mum has made so much effort to reconnect and they were welcomed back with open arms; Eggsy, Daisy, even Harry. It makes Eggsy feel bad for how often he misses these events even if most of the time it really can’t be helped. 

She smiles back at him, blowing out a breath, ‘I know, I know, just wanted to help didn’t I. Are you having fun? How’s Harry?’

‘He’s alright, I left him with Irene she’s telling him about the war,’ if there’s one thing Harry’s good at at these family gatherings it’s charming the old ladies. 

‘You both ready to tell everyone? Before they all get too pissed?’

‘Do we have to mum? It’s not our party, we don’t want a fuss.’

‘They’re our family, babes - you  _ are  _ inviting them all aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, course but -’

Michelle raises an eyebrow, her hard won acceptance of Harry and Eggsy’s relationship is not something he takes lightly. Unlike nearly everyone else Michelle wanted Harry to prove he was good enough for her son not the other way around.

She hands him a can of lager, firmly, ‘look, go give this to Darren and find Harry, I’ll get everyone together.’ 

It appears she’s made up her mind and Eggsy could never take something from her that makes her happy, he puts her through enough as it is, ‘yes, mum.’

In the living room Harry’s nowhere to be seen, ‘alright, you haven’t seen Harry have you?’, he asks his cousin.

Darren gives him a smirk, as he accepts the beer, ‘yeah, mate, think he went to the garden for a smoke.’ 

Eggsy ignores the inevitable jolt of irritation, he’s a bit desperate for a smoke himself, ‘right, cheers, yeah.’

In the garden Harry is loitering by the rockery, shoulders hunched as he smokes the roll up he must have begged off somebody inside. He doesn’t start when Eggsy comes over to him, just smiles in a weary sort of way and carries on staring out into the garden.

‘What’s going on Harry,’ says Eggsy gently, ‘I know my family are all a bit mad but they’ll be happy for us I know it.’

‘It’s not that.’

‘Worried you’re marrying below your station?’ it’s an old joke but this time Harry winces.

‘If anything I’m concerned they don’t think I’m good enough for you.’

‘What are you talking about? They all think you’re great. Weird and posh, yeah, but that’s why I love you so…’

‘I’m so much older than you, Eggsy. I can’t bear to think that you’re throwing your life away to be with me.’

‘Harry, I love you but you’re a fucking idiot.’ 

Harry has so much confidence, taught Eggsy to wear his well, not like defensiveness but like armour, and yet he still has his moments of uncertainty, concern that Eggsy is not a sure thing, that the awkward stumbling of their early relationship is indicative of how Eggsy feels about him now. There had never been a doubt in Eggsy’s mind but Harry, ever the gentleman, had worried he’d been taking advantage or conversely he was just an itch for Eggsy to scratch. 

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I promise. now come back inside before mum finds us and gives you a talking to.’

‘Heaven forfend,’ Harry takes his hand and flicks his cigarette away, barely smoked.

‘And who gave you that? I need to make sure they’re not invited to the wedding.’

‘A gentleman never tells, dear boy, surely you know that.’

V.

‘You’re supposed to have a smoke to calm your nerves  _ before _ the wedding not after,’ says Eggsy

Harry looks decadent, relaxed in his tux against a bench in the grounds of the country house they’d booked for the big day. Eggsy had lost track of him after their first dance, circulating the ballroom for hugs and congratulations. It’s happened enough times now for him to know Harry’s ducked outside for a smoke but he can’t bring himself to mind, still high on the adrenaline of having made it through the vows, unable to wipe the idiotic grin off his face. 

Harry smiles back at him, opens his arms for Eggsy to tuck himself into Harry’s side, ‘darling, I’m celebrating.’

‘I’ll forgive you, I ‘spose.’

‘Magnanimous of you. Is everyone alright inside?’ 

‘Yeah, Merlin’s commandeered the decks from the DJ, Daisy’s refusing to go to bed even though she’s exhausted, mum keeps bursting into tears.’

‘Of joy or sorrow?’ 

‘Bit of both probably.’ 

They pause in contented silence for a beat. Eggsy can’t see Harry from this angle, cuddled close but he can feel the occasional movement of Harry’s arms as he lifts the cigarette up to his lips, the rise of his chest as he draws in a lungful of smoke, ‘we did it then. Got married.’ 

Harry resettles them so they can see each other's faces, ‘and how do you feel?’

Eggsy grins, stupidly, warmly, incomprehensible happiness bubbling up in his chest, ‘magic, still don’t believe this is my life sometimes. That I get to have you.’

‘The feeling is entirely mutual, dear boy,’ Harry stubs his cigarette out in an ashtray conveniently placed for brides and grooms experiencing cold feet, drawing him into a kiss that’s full of so much promise, filthy wet tongue and sharp teeth against Eggsy’s bottom lip, ‘now, shall we go and make use of that ridiculous honeymoon suite I’m paying an arm and a leg for?’ 

‘Shouldn’t we say night to everyone first?’ Eggsy peers over Harry’s shoulder to where he can just about see through the windows to the party getting increasingly more raucous inside. 

Harry pulls him back into a closer embrace, ‘I don’t think they’ll miss us and it is after all the bride’s prerogative to slip out when she pleases.’ 

‘Oi! Who are you calling a bride!’ Eggsy says indignantly but he does allow Harry to dip him and snog him again, laying gentle claim to his mouth before hauling them even closer together.

‘Take me to bed, darling,’ the hot, sweet scent of cigarettes still clinging to Harry’s suit, and his breath ghosting against Eggsy’s ear. 

They do go back inside to say goodbye, the most awkward ten minutes of Eggsy’s life, half hard in his trousers as Harry steers them round the room for handshakes, back slapping and winks as they head off to bed. 

Their suite is dimly lit, champagne chilling on ice, although Eggsy has definitely had enough, giddy and thrilling though the day has been all he wants now is to be wrapped up in Harry. 

By unspoken agreement they toe off their shoes, shrug jackets off shoulders and come together again at the foot of the bed to pause and grin at each other. Eggsy catches Harry’s hands in his, feels the band of his wedding ring, warm now it’s been on Harry’s finger for half a day. Then they’re kissing, desperate, like they’ve been apart for months, ceremony and etiquette keeping them at arms length all day. 

Harry tugs him down onto the bed, pulling the wings of his bowtie apart and getting to work on his shirt buttons but Eggsy is not having any of that - you marry a man 27 years your junior for a reason, well, many reasons in their case, and he’s not about to show Harry anything less than a good time. He rolls them so Harry’s flat on his back, sprawled across the bed and Eggsy can perch across his thighs to flick open his own shirt buttons at a pace designed to drive Harry mad. Harry’s flushed, watching him, letting his tongue dart out to the lick across his bottom lip as Eggsy gets his cummerbund off, his trousers open enough to get a hand in the fly and stroke his dick. It’s the hint of a touch, barely enough to take the edge off but it also has the desired effect of riling Harry up until he puts his feet flat on the bed, tipping Eggsy forward to sprawl across Harry’s chest. 

Eggsy kisses him quickly, lightly, as he strips off his shirt, ‘come on old man, catch up, clothes off.’ 

Harry shuffles up the bed, laughing as he divests himself of his clothing, ‘isn’t this supposed to be romantic?’

‘We’ve done the romance, now I thought I’d fuck you so hard they can hear you downstairs.’

‘I knew I married you for a reason,’ naked in the golden light, Harry lets his legs fall open for Eggsy, shameless in asking for what he wants, taking what he needs. 

Eggsy shuffles out of his trousers, clumsy now with the desire spiking under his skin, and when he looks up Harry has got the lube out of their suitcase and is pressing a slick finger up under his balls.

‘No, no, no, Harry, let me do that,’ Eggsy knee walks up the bed, running his hand from Harry’s ankle, up his calf, pushing at the knee to spread his legs wider, stroking delicately along the inside of his thighs. 

Harry shivers at the touch, welcomes Eggsy into his arms with a kiss and fingers digging into his hips. Eggsy slicks his fingers, slides two ever so gently into Harry’s waiting body, waits for the hiss he feels rather than hears as Harry sucks in a breath at the breach, lets it out on a, ‘fuck, Eggsy, yes.’

‘Do you remember?’ Eggsy says close and hot against Harry’s neck, ‘the first time we did this, on your sofa?’

‘How could I forget? You still smoked then.’

‘Shut up. I’ve quit. More than could be said for you. Means I can go all night.’

‘I wish you would.’

Eggsy chuckles then to let Harry know he isn’t planning on being a tease, flexes his fingers in the way he knows drives Harry wild. He tamps down on his own need to focus on Harry, who always rushes when he does this himself, eager to get to the main event but he’s beautiful like this - spread out for Eggsy to touch, to enjoy. He presses his fingers deeper, searching, mouthing at Harry’s neck all the while - offsetting the first touch to Harry’s prostate with the sting of teeth at his collarbone.

‘Come on, darling boy,  _ please,’ _ getting Harry Hart to beg is one of Eggsy’s finest achievements and greatest pleasures. 

They shift against the pillows, moving impossibly closer as Harry lets himself fall into the sensation of Eggsy’s fingers in him, Eggsy’s arms around him. He’s flushed, head tipped back and his prick so hard it looks almost painful, dripping onto his belly, arching from the small of his back almost unconsciously to get Eggsy where he wants him. 

‘Are you ready, babe?’

‘God, yes.’

Eggsy slicks a handful of lube over himself, can’t believe how ready he is, how much he wants this, ‘Harry,  _ Harry,  _ how do you..?’

‘Like this, here,’ Harry reaches for him and guides Eggsy to where he’s soft and hot, open. 

They press their foreheads together for a moment before Eggsy starts to move, a fast rhythm because neither of them have the patience for anything else; they have the whole honeymoon to make love, right now they’re going to fuck. There’s sweat pricking at the back of his knees, jolts of pleasure running down his spine, pooling in his hips but he wants to see this through, make Harry come first and he knows exactly how to do it, Harry’s body as familiar to him as his own. 

Harry’s working for it now meeting Eggsy thrust for thrust hands gripped around the headboard and Eggsy snakes a hand between them to take hold of Harry’s cock but he shakes his head, ‘no, just, fuck me,  _ fuck _ .’ 

There is not a universe in which Eggsy wouldn’t do as he’s told in this moment; fuck Harry until he comes on the end of his prick and he does just that, pressing forward, shouldering under Harry’s knees, finding that leverage, the angle that gets Harry there the fastest.

‘Christ, Eggsy,’ Harry’s hands find his face, gripping hard at the juncture between neck and shoulder, to look him in the eyes, ‘I love you.’

Eggsy watches as that moment of clarity becomes bright and shattering pleasure, and Harry arches up to kiss him and come between them. Laughing, he’s drawn down against the slick, wet mess on Harry’s stomach and Harry hot in his ear whispering, ‘come on, my darling, come for me, I can take it.’ 

He moves, hips seemingly beyond his control, thrusting into Harry where he’s pliant and so fucking good around Eggsy’s cock, orgasm inevitable. It seems to start prickling across his scalp and down his spine, coalescing in his hips and out as he comes, teeth on Harry’s neck and panting into Harry’s collarbones. 

They catch their breath for a moment before Eggsy rolls to the side for some ridiculously heated eye contact considering what they’ve just done, how spent they both are. They’ll have to get up soon, clean up, straighten the bed as best they can but for now Eggsy is content to bask in the afterglow but Harry’s hand skitters across his chest, an involuntary movement, and Eggsy is forced to kick him, ‘no, you’re not having another cigarette.

Harry turns to pull Eggsy to his side for a cuddle, ‘as my husband commands.’

VI.

‘Agent Galahad!’

Harry is well aware that people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, and given the life he leads they would probably be more like boulders, but he had promised Eggsy to help him quit smoking, encourage him to stick with it and he feels more often than not he’s been failing in on that score given the number of times Eggsy has caught him with a fag on the go recently. Lead by example and all that - except Harry has always been a rather bad example of most things underneath the suits. Still, there’s no time like the present to improve oneself. 

Eggsy is, there’s no other word for it, skulking round the back of the Kingsman garages, an as yet unlit cigarette halfway to his mouth. Tom, one of the mechanics takes one look at Harry - Arthur - striding across the lawn and stubs his own out and scarpers. Smart lad. 

‘What you  _ Agent Galahad-ing  _ me for!?’ Eggsy looks mutinous, back from a difficult mission, ‘it’s only one and I ain’t even lit it yet.’ 

‘We’ve quit.’ 

Eggsy glares, ‘ _ I’ve _ quit, you keep finding an excuse to cheat.’

‘Not in 8 months, 4 days, 10 hours and,’ he checks his watch, ‘37 minutes.’

‘Fuck off.’

Harry responds to Eggsy petulance in the only way he sees fit, by being a bitch, ‘if you smoke that I’ll have given up for longer than you and surely you want to best me in something, darling.’

‘Fuck  _ off,’  _ Eggsy hisses more emphatically but he does lower the hand holding his cigarette. 

Everyone knows that the only person to ever beat Arthur’s scores in marksmanship and on the Kingsman assault course is Galahad, something Harry has never quite gotten over. 

‘What will you give me if I don’t smoke it?’

Harry pretends to think it over for a bit, raises an eyebrow, ‘a blowjob.’

Eggsy’s peals of laughter are a welcome sound as he shoves the cigarette in the little wall mounted bin beside him and takes Harry's hand, ‘done.’ 

  
  



End file.
